“Do you think you’ve slowed down since you’ve moved?” an old neighbour from London asked.

“No, no.” I said defensively.

And to be honest, life with 3-year-old triplets is hectic. The sheer domestic work 3 little humans can create before breakfast is eye-watering.

But now the boxes are all unpacked and the “work” of moving is done there is no doubt things have slowed.

In the morning, I check the weather forecast, then the tide times and plan my day accordingly. Simplicity itself.

So, why does admitting to slowing down feel like failure? Like you’re no longer in the race. No longer a serious contender.

Why do I feel guilty about it?

Because this version of life doesn’t look like the one I used to chase. It doesn’t feel like the race I was trained to run.

The cult of busy

I’m a striver, an over-achiever, a squeezer of one extra thing. Surrender doesn’t come easy. Even on holiday, I like to stay active.

Years ago, my best-friend from Uni, Sam, who lives in a village, came to visit me in a flat in Elephant and Castle - which is basically the main gyratory and transport hub for south London. Pretty much every bus in South London goes through it day and night. It never stops.

I’d planned such a busy itinerary cramming in exhibitions, restaurants and even hipster plant shops. When I gave her the big reveal she said, “Urgh! I’m so over the cult of busy.”

The pattern interrupt

My pattern interrupt came due to 3 things:

1. Rafa (who is going through a very expensive destructive phase at the moment - an hour ago he snapped Nana’s varifocal glasses for no good reason - I’m about to drive her to Boots for emergency repairs!) breaking my phone forcing me to be offline for a couple of weeks

2. The Easter holidays = 20 days of no childcare

3. The first properly hot sunny days since we’ve moved to the beach - I’m talking hot enough for my boys to strip and run into the sea naked.

I’ve always known I hate multitasking - and don’t even get me started on habit stacking - but mum life requires it. Not only that, but it’s the mental load of switching.

I’m responding to social comments whilst my kids eat their pasta. I’m checking my emails whilst potty training. I’m trying to keep on top of the 100+ WhatsApp notifications whilst shouting, “I mean it, clean your teeth now or we’re going to be late.”

I never liked it. But I didn’t think I had a choice.

Now, I’ve stopped.

If people had to wait longer for a reply… so be it.

If the algorithms get pissed off with me…so be it

When a new client complained there were no slots on my calendar until after Easter, I fought the urge to apologise.

The only call I had over Easter was with my coach. On it I glanced over at the vision board I made 2 years ago and realised I’m pretty much living it.

There’s a picture of me on the beach with my boys, a camper van, a coffee and croissant in the sunshine, yoga on the sand. My life actually looks like that now. And it didn’t happen by accident. It came from having the courage to commit to 4 uncomfortable steps, which I’ll share with you next week.

Yes, it takes courage to make a change, to slow down and change tracks. Yes it will raise a few eyebrows and some people won’t get it. Damn, you’ll even question it some days because it feels so alien.

My whole life has been about achieving and proving I’m worthy: the Oxford degree, the awards, even the TedX. “Take me seriously,” I begged the world.

My coach asked me last week, what it would feel like if I stopped “proving” and started believing.

So I slowed down. And I’m starting to think that might be the bravest thing I’ve ever done.

So let me ask you:

If you really let yourself slow down… what would be different?

Notice any resistance that comes up.

If you’re done subscribing to the cult of busy, you’ll feel at home here.

Subscribe below and ditch the mum guilt while you’re at it.

Subscribe now

This Mother’s Day, this F*** Mum Guilt community came together for a raw, cameras-on, sharing-from-the-hear- to-a-stranger type chat. The best kind, IMHO. I ran with the theme “We’re not fine” because the data clearly shows that we’re not: 95% of us experience mum guilt and 50% of us in Europe are suffering maternal mental health challenges. I say these stats a lot because I think we all should.

I was right in there with some questions that made the mamas really think. Wanna play?

The question that cracked it open

OK, grab a pen and paper and complete this sentence, “I thought I’d be the kind of mum who…”

This cracked open a whole world of unrealistic expectations each of us had heaped on ourself. Personally, I thought I’d be the Earth Mother type, but when I saw a reel of a hippie mum dancing in the sunshine claiming the only way to bond with your baby is to spend the first 40 days in bed together, I realised it just wasn’t me. I mean my babies hadn’t even been discharged from NICU then.

Someone else thought they’d be the kind of mum who cooked homemade meals every night.

Someone else thought they’d be firing on full cylinders after mat leave, back to work with a full social calendar.

Spoiler alert: none of those things happened for us.

And we laughed together in recognition of what’s happening here.

The expectations driving mum guilt

Our reality is not the problem, our expectations are.

There are so many expectations placed on mums today, many of them start externally - perhaps from society (You can have it all, doll), from your Mother-in-Law (You shouldn’t co-sleep, I never did) or perhaps from social media (This is what motherhood is supposed to look like - if yours doesn’t look like this, you’re probably doing it wrong).

Yet bit by bit, like an unwelcome form of osmosis, they seep under our skin. Then we’re in real trouble because they become our own internal expectations of ourselves. We expect that we’ll be able to do, have, and be everything that’s been presented as “good mum” material. But we can’t, Mama. No one can.

The guilt gap

And when we inevitably fall short (we’re only human), we get stuck in the guilt gap.

Expectations on top.

Reality at the bottom.

Our misery and mum guilt in-between.

We all find ourselves here. One of the first steps of climbing out is getting real about what your expectations of motherhood were before you actually became a mother, then you can stop giving yourself a hard time for not meeting them.

Some of mine where honestly laughable, I thought I’d spend my mat leave travelling around Italy eating gelato, baby in a sling, climbing the Alps.

Reader, I barely made it out of my house.

Yet I’d still see all those glorious (if a tad smug) traveller mum posts and feel a bit “this is what you could have won”.

Over to you

Get really uncomfortably honest with yourself and share your answers to these revealing questions below:

• What did you think motherhood would look like… and what does it actually look like for you?

• Where do you feel the biggest gap between expectation and reality right now?

• What’s one expectation you might be ready to let go of?

P.S.We need more raw conversations

If you want to be in the next room like this and part of real no BS motherhood conversations, or watch what happened in this one, drop me a message.

If this hit a nerve, you’re exactly who the F*** Mum Guilt community is for.

Subscribe below to be part of it.

Subscribe now

We are not robots. We’re women, whose divine energy flows.

It’s no wonder so many of us feel “not good enough” when we’re trying to operate like machines in bodies that run on waves.

We have periods of inspiration and action like a couple of weeks ago when I suddenly decided to put on the FMG Mother’s Day Takeover, and we also have periods where we need to recover, take things a little slower. And that’s OK.

I spent most of my career as an entrepreneur. The narrative, culture, and rhetoric in that world is dangerously masculine. It’s about pushing, driving, squeezing, dominating, and competing (all of the reasons I now can’t bear to watch Dragon’s Den - it’s genuinely triggering). None of these attributes are really me. I was all about creative collaboration and interesting ideas.

Until one day, in a Google-inspired co-working space, complete with fake palm trees and hammocks, a wise woman explained something that changed everything. Over a tumeric and ginger shot she said:

“Women are cyclical. It’s our divine feminine energy.”

Here’s the nutshell version. We flow, we find it very hard to be the same, bring the same energy every single day. We have peaks and troughs.

Personally, I have days when I crave company and days when I crave solitude. And left to my own devices, I can choose to balance things in a way that works for me. If you’ve ever cancelled a softplay date because you just can’t face it, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

But here’s the rub, our kids, our boss, our societal structures expect us to be the same every day. No matter where we are in our cycle, no matter how much sleep we got last night, no matter how burned out we’re feeling.

Robo-mum

And so we create this impossible standard: The fully switched-on, endlessly capable, never-dropping-a-ball Robo-mum. Oh she’s a peach. She never needs a break, never gets run down, always has a cheery can-do attitude and won’t break no matter how much you heap on her plate. She’ll deliver 24/7/365.

But we are not Robo-mum. No one is.

And when we don’t have the energy to do all the things she’s expected to do - maintain endless enthusiasm for playing shops with toddlers, cooking a healthy dinner that everyone will eat, effortlessly returning the home to a liveable state - we feel shit for coming up short.

The win here isn’t pushing through and trying to convince everyone you’re infallible (as the entrepreneurial bros will tell you). The win is noticing your own body, your energy, and listening to the signals for when you need to slow down a little. I’m writing this in my PJs, and am already thinking about getting under the duvet with a hot water bottle and it’s not yet 9pm.

I did this last week.

I put so much into all our FMG events that the following few days I’m a bit wiped out. So, I admit I did sack a few things off and spend some time enjoying my new Mother’s Day present - a hammock - in the garden last week.

One of the steps of breaking up with mum guilt is to choose intuition over influence.

Listen to what your mind and body are telling you e.g. “You could really do with a quiet couple of days” rather than the shoulds “You should sort the garden out”, “You should book the dentist”, “You should order a new phone.” Blah Blah Blah.

But then I remembered I’d just signed up to a sprint where we meet every Friday, and the cheery coach who runs the session had got us to set SMART goals to complete by the following Friday.

I left that meeting with renewed distaste for all things SMART.

All I wanted to do was lie in that hammock. Until a couple of hours before the meeting, I had a mega productive half hour and managed to get everything done.

Have you heard of Parkinson’s Law?

It’s basically this: a task will take the length of time you have to complete it.

And if there’s one thing mums are exceptional at, it’s getting shit done in tiny windows of time. Don’t tell us we can “Have it all” then use “productivity” as a stick to beat us. There’s nothing you can teach us about time management.

But what gets overlooked is energy management. Energy, our most precious and beautiful resource.

Bottom line: mums are efficient AF.

We will always get the thing done. The point is noticing when the most efficient thing of all is to rest, slow down, and recover.

And it goes without saying, that no one is going to offer you this on a plate. It’s up to you to take it, Mama.

Join hundreds of mums who are done trying to be everything to everyone and still feeling not good enough enough.
Subscribe and put mum guilt in its place.

Subscribe now

Frankie bowled into our bedroom, announcing, “It’s Big Daddy’s Day,” and giving his dad, James, a big hug and kiss. I reminded him that it was not. In fact, it was Mother’s Day, so I should get a cuddle.

“But I only like you a little bit,” (he indicated with his hands about 15 cm apart) and I like Daddy this much (arms spread wide).

“Frankie, you can’t come to the restaurant tonight if you don’t give Mummy a cuddle,” James tried desperately.

It was pitiful. I didn’t want the bribe cuddle.

I wanted to explain to Frankie that I’d given up my whole life for him and his brothers but it would be a pointless argument to a three-year-old who already thinks Daddy is way cooler.

My husband gave me a hug and told me they’d appreciate it one day. Maybe.

Thank God, my own mum booked us massages. Why does it take a mum to see a mum?

(pic: Mum & I with our post-treatment relaxed glow)

Seriously, how was it for you?

Maybe there was breakfast in bed.
Maybe there were flowers.
Maybe the kids made you a card.

Maybe you got the recognition and appreciation you really deserve for once.

But underneath it all, the mental load, the mum guilt, the juggle are probably still just as real as they were last week.

Mother’s Day can feel a bit token. Our one day. Our one chance to grab the mic.

That’s why we’re hosting the FMG Mother’s Day Takeover tonight. So we can get together and have real, raw, honest conversation about motherhood.

I’ll also be sharing the 4-step framework that has helped hundreds of mums break up with mum guilt and make clearer, kinder decisions about their time and energy.

The FMG Mother’s Day Takeover
🗓 Tonight – Tuesday 17th
⏰ 8pm (Zoom)

If you’d like to join us, you can register here:

And if you know a mum who might need this conversation today, please send it her way.

Much love x

Leila

I’d look at the perfect twins and triplets in perfect homes in perfectly matching outfits on Instagram and then look at my porridge-splattered kitchen, messy babies, and heap of laundry and wonder where I was going so wrong.

I’d compare myself to the mums at the library (the only baby activity I made it to was a rhyme time session) one of whom committed to an impeccable 1940s vintage look the whole time. I called her Miss Lemon, Hercule Poirot’s assistant, because she looked like a hotter, millennial version of her. I’d chide myself for not even brushing my hair and wish the municipal carpet would swallow me whole.

And then I saw a reel from a top motherhood influencer and bestseller saying:

“Only psychopaths who never feel guilt. Feeling guilt shows me how much you love and care.”

WTF. This triggered me. I knew how debilitating and toxic mum guilt is, and she was using it as a metric for how much you love your kids. So, by her standards, I didn’t love or care about mine.

What BS!

I was so angry that I did a reel, with no make-up, in my gym stuff, with Rafa in his highchair, announcing an event called “Fuck Mum Guilt” to shift the energy to empowerment. We’re not wearing mum guilt as a badge of honour.

(pic: me looking pretty pissed announcing our first event)

• 70 of you signed up.

• We hit the national media (with a whole heap of trolls to boot)

• We started a movement.

Two years on, I still feel as angry about the incessant expectations on mums, about the lack of maternal mental health support, about the supermum narrative, about mum martyrdom being glamourised. I’ll pause it there. But also, I still find motherhood the loneliest part of my life.

So I’m doing it again.

FMG Mother’s Day Takeover

We’re going to get together to say “F*** Mum Guilt” - you’re not serving us, you’re just making us feel shit with your fake news and gaslighting, and we are coming together to stand up to you.

Join me Tuesday 17th 8pm for a free Zoom where we can have honest conversations about our experiences of motherhood and chuck all our mum guilt on the fire.

I’ll also be sharing the 4-step framework to break up with mum guilt, which has gone on to help hundreds of mums.

If you’re ready to say “yes” to you and “no” to mum guilt, register here:

Grab your free spot

And bring your mum friends.

It’s all getting a bit vanilla, or vanilla with a hint of pink. It needs a radical glow-up. It needs an FMG takeover.

Sure, share your cute family pictures and enjoy that breakfast in bed (you’ll be making it the other 364 days if you’re like me), but I’m not OK with leaving it there.

I’m not OK with how squeezed mums are in a society that wasn’t built around our needs yet bombards us with expectations every single day. I’m not OK with the fact 95% of us battle mum guilt on a daily basis through no fault of our own.

No, in fact, I’m choking on the only slice of toast I won’t make this year.

If there’s one day we take the mic, it’s this one.

Mums rarely get to be centre stage, and on this one day, I don’t just want some floppy flowers and the last card in M&S.

Those of you who were here last year, may remember that I got a card that said, “To a beautiful mum, on your birthday” - it was not my birthday and it definitely was the only card left in M&S.

I want Mother’s Day to be a chance to have conversations about what’s really going on for mums right now and what we’re going to do about it. So I’m talking

• with organisations about how they can actually support working mums

• with anyone who will listen about the fact that 50% of mums in Europe report mental health struggles. Half.

• with you, about how to break up with mum guilt and choose a kinder mindset right now

So, as requested by some of you, we’re holding a TAKEOVER event next Tuesday 8pm (after my boys are in bed).

The FMG Mother’s Day Takeover is simple:
We stop pretending a bunch of daffodils fixes everything and start talking honestly about mum guilt.

And there’s another reason this year’s Mother’s Day takeover is important.

Where it all began

Almost exactly two years ago, 7th March 24, I ran the very first F*** Mum Guilt event.

It was a simple idea: an online amnesty from mum guilt run by a triplet mum who was DONE with it.

Seventy mums signed up. Including some OGs pictured below.
We got media coverage.
And it started a movement.

And two years later, it feels like the perfect moment to celebrate with a Mother’s Day takeover.

Claim your free spot here and say yes to more than floppy flowers this year.

The FMG Takeover

This Mother’s Day, mums don’t need flowers that will wilt.
We need a way to break up with mum guilt - for good.

Mum guilt affects around 95% of mothers, yet it’s rarely called out. And that works perfectly for guilt - because when it stays unchallenged, it gets to run the show.

But the moment we start talking about it openly - with other mums who get it - its power starts to shrink.

Unchecked, it whispers that we’re not good enough.
It undermines our decisions.
It drains our energy and confidence - every single day.

Enough.

If you’re ready to say “no” to mum guilt and “yes” to yourself, join me, Leila Green, founder of the F*** Mum Guilt Movement, on Tuesday 17th March at 8pm.

You’ll leave with:

• A practical 4-step framework to break up with mum guilt

• Clarity on what truly deserves your time and energy

• A feeling of being lighter and unburdened

Register here

Bring the mums in your life who need this conversation too.

Still not convinced?

Here’s what my idol, Joeli Brearley had to say about my workshops:

"Leila combines insight, empathy and practical guidance beautifully. Many shared that they felt seen and understood in a way they hadn’t before."
- Joeli Brearly, Founder of Pregnant Then Screwed

Yeah, I know. I thought about getting it tattooed. I can’t believe that event two years ago has now got to this level.

The day every parent dreads. The day we lost Florence the Flamingo. Now, Florence is not just a toy. She is The Toy.

Florence is Frankie’s soul mate. The toy he can’t be parted from. She is the only reason we managed to wean him off the ratty hospital blanket some kind soul knitted for him when he was in NICU, which was dragged through London parks and pavements until it quite literally unravelled.

I try to keep Florence at home, but somehow Frankie still sneaks her out. Stuffed into pockets. Hidden under coats. Smuggled past me like contraband.

I only realised she’d made it out when Frankie proudly introduced her to the entire café. Alongside his matching Florence jumper, obviously (the £3 Vinted buy that won Christmas!)

And then…

Somewhere between the church toy and clothes sale, the greengrocer and the library… Florence flew away.

Had she migrated?

Had someone else picked her up, paid for her and taken her home from the church sale?

If motherhood had a job description

I’d definitely include: crisis management, problem solving, decision-making (or more specifically, extremely unpopular decision-making), nervous system regulation (your own and others) and of course leadership.

Thank God I had some foundations to fall back on. Because when Frankie realised Florence wasn’t there, when his bottom lip started to tremble, and he just wanted to be held, it would have been easy to slip down the slalom slope of panic.

I could feel it rising in the back of my throat and gulped it down. Not today.

I knew if I let that guy steer this ship, I’d be dealing with the Boomerang Effect. Three overtired three-year-olds absorbing my anxious energy and firing it straight back at me threefold. I couldn’t afford to make this situation harder than it already was.*

So I took it minute by minute.

Back when my teeny premature babies were in NICU, my husband was still playing tennis. At night, he’d read books by elite coaches about match-day psychology, completely oblivious to the triplet-shaped tornado about to shred his hobby.

One thing stuck.

Top players don’t obsess over the scoreboard or the magnitude of the match when they are on the court. They lose themselves in the point they’re playing.

“Play the point you’re in, Leila.”

So I did. I didn’t allow myself to mentally fast-forward to how apocalyptic bedtime would be. I took a breath, made a plan. Slow calm words, slow calm movements to signal to the kids that I’d got this. I tried to affect a nonchalant tone, explaining Florence was probably just waiting for us.

It worked. Frankie didn’t cry, but held my hand, his eyes downcast and spirit broken as we retraced our steps over town. I have to admit, when we went back to the church sale, and no one had seen Florence, I caught myself spiralling: posters, Facebook groups, small-scale search operations.

Thank God for the miracle that then befell - Florence was hanging up on a hook at the greengrocer’s. Hallelujah.

Frankie and Jerry had fought so passionately over who would carry the bag of strawberries and melon that he must have dropped her. Finally, I could breathe out. Phew! I live to parent, I mean, crisis manage, another day.

Let’s be honest, this won’t be the last time a beloved toy goes walkies.

So let me know

• Has your child ever lost The Toy? What happened?

• How do you stay calm when a small crisis threatens to become a big one?

• And most importantly… do I need to buy a backup Florence? (I didn’t even realise this was a thing until other parents were shocked I didn’t have a collection of replica Florences and started sending me eBay and Vinted links!)

I write about mum guilt, what I do to keep calm and sane with 3-year-old triplets and of course, how to break up with that bitch, Mum Guilt. If you’d like a weekly dose, hit subscribe below:

Subscribe now

*I wrote this at 6am. Yes, I felt smug about that too. By mid-afternoon, I had triggered a full-blown case of the Boomerang Effect.

The accountants rang in a flap, saying I had to sign something before lunch or they would redo it and charge me again. Stress. A day with no childcare is not the day to get me to read, question and sign financial documents.

Then I pranged the car on the way to get Frankie’s diarrhoea sample tested.

My stress levels went through the roof. And of course, my children bounced that energy straight back at me. Screaming. Fighting. Crying uncontrollably on the floor (which is what I wanted to do). The whole lot.

(Pic: Rafa with a temperature of 40)

It was either cry it out or go for a run. I chose the latter.

On that run, I realised that I hadn’t had ten minutes to myself all week. No wonder I was on the edge.

Now, I don’t think I’m an introvert, but the sonic onslaught of 3 x 3-year-olds barking demands and shouting over the top of each other, all day long, all half-term long, left me spent. Craving quiet. Solitude. Just listening to the waves as I run along.

But the house was a tip, there was so much that needed doing. I felt like I should be catching up. Like I hadn’t earned the right to stop yet. Not until the home was neat, calm was restored, and mum-jobs were done for the day.

But I was suddenly so desperate to be on my own, I had to get out. To hell with the mum guilt.

Mum guilt will always tell us there is something more important we should be doing. That we don’t matter. Our needs are at the bottom of the pile. That a break is something we have to earn.

And I’m calling BS on all of that.

We need to stop demonising rest.

There, I said it.

It’s not about hacking, habit stacking, or squeezing more into already full days.

Not starting our mornings at 5am to get ahead.

If we make it to 6:30am without anyone waking up, that’s a win.

Before I had my triplets, I was an entrepreneur locked into that hustle culture. It was all about squeezing every drop, always-on, high performance. Yes, in the short-term it worked. But that was when I had no responsibilities - financial or living and breathing.

But now I know when my body needs to rest. When I need everything to stop. When I need silence. When I need to recover.

But we’ve been conditioned not to listen to our bodies, not to believe them when they are yelling, “Slow down, pause, rest”.

In any case, we can’t afford to when there are always a million things that need doing. Always others vying for our time, attention, energy. We feel like we’re behind all the time, so stopping feels wildly irresponsible. Radical, even.

I did my homework and found that 93% of mums experience burnout. That’s the cost of not listening. Not noticing when we need to give ourselves a break - literally.

(Pic: boys and dog all feeling much better on the beach)

Give yourself a break

On Monday, when the boys went back to forest school (hallelujiah), aside from a couple of calls, I took it easy. I walked along the beach with my dog. I recovered. Yes, it’s totally legit to need to recover from half-term.

I also gave myself a break from my phone. No socials. No WhatsApp. It felt so different. Instead of being in the middle of several things – checking my emails whilst potty training Rafa, whilst cooking the dinner, whilst shouting at the dog – I wasn’t splitting myself between real world and online world in the same moment. I could focus.

My thinking was no longer incessant. It wasn’t that constant, exhausting mental loop of what I hadn’t done, what I needed to do, what I might have forgotten.

I realised I had slipped back into that always-on mindset. That belief that I should be doing more. Being more. Achieving more. But that’s not who I am anymore. And it’s not who I want to be.

I’m calling BS on the whole notion that we need to deserve or earn a break. That we can only have that once everything else and everyone else is taken care of. Because to be honest Mama, that day is never gonna come.

So if your body is telling you you need to rest, take a break. Take it now.

Not later. Not when everything’s done.

Now.

You’ll feel much better for it, trust me.

If this hit a nerve, join the F*** Mum Guilt Movement by subscribing here.

Subscribe now

I write about mum guilt, the mental load, and the realities of triplet mum life.

Yes, I was tired. Jerry wet his bed at 3am and Rafa got up at 5am.

Yes, I was hungry. I’d had a couple of coffees and a mouthful of cinnamon bun that little sticky hands snatched away from me.

But it was more than that.

“NO. I WANT THE PINK PLATE. I WON’T EVER EAT THAT”

This, I’m ashamed to say, was the straw that broke Mama donkey’s back. I suspect I’m not the only mum to be pushed over the edge by mealtime defiance.

My body was screaming at me to feed it properly, and had been all morning. All the time I meal-planned for the week. All the time I pushed the kids around the supermarket. All the time I spent making them lunch. I was way over borrowed time.

They were tired and hungry too. And a whole family that’s tired and hungry is, to quote Bonnie Tyler, like

“living in a powder keg and giving off sparks”.

My husband noticed me weeping over our pitta breads, unable to make the hummus, and put his hand on my back.

“Are you OK?”

I couldn’t even begin to explain what the matter was.

It was everything. The fact that every-fucking-thing today had been on me from the 3am wake-up to making lunch at 2pm. From scraping the mould out of the washing machine to planning a cultural family morning.

It was all me.

Me.

Me.

And all I needed was to eat without someone barking a demand at me.

(Picture of the boys drawing at the Turner Contemporary prior to Pink-Plate-Gate)

We hold everything. We just push through.

We automatically deprioritise ourselves. “I’ll eat in a minute,” we tell ourselves. “I’ll grab something later”. “I just need to get this done first”.

Meanwhile, our stressed bodies are saying, “Woah, I can’t hold on much longer.”

When I finally made some sense. I acknowledged that I was anxious about half-term, which started the next day. No childcare for a week. None of the usual activities I take the boys to are on. And my mum, who often helps me out, is off on a yoga retreat in Sri Lanka - good for her. I always knew moving away from my family would be the hardest thing about relocating. But it’s times like this that it really pinches.

Pinch points

In the talk I gave last week, about the mum guilt-free return to work, we spoke about pinch points. There are times in our year when either things at work or at home are intense.

Half-term is a pinch point.

December is a pinch point.

Going back to work after maternity leave is a pinch point.

Things are intense. Capacity is down. Expectations are up. And, paradoxically, this is where we need to double down on prioritising and looking after ourselves (even though time is tight). This is when we should be cutting ourselves some slack, not just pushing through. Or we wind up crying in our pitta bread.

So I gave myself a break. I told my husband how I was feeling, and we arranged for him to cover me for a call with my coach. He booked family swimming one lunch break. I had a bit of breathing space built into my week. I didn’t feel suffocated anymore.

When Monday rolled around, I had grand plans of taking the boys to the library. I know it’s not exactly Euro Disney (a friend is taking her kids for the week - but I’m not slipping into that comparison trap).

But they weren’t having it.

And for a moment, I felt that pull.

Like I should push it.

Like staying home somehow wasn’t enough.

Then I realised my expectations were working against me. They wanted to stay at home and do puzzles and build towers. So I got to sit on the sofa while they played and reset. That was enough. When we ventured to the beach to walk the dog in the afternoon, everyone was calm and surprisingly balanced.

Lesson learned. I need to build in some pressure valves, some moments of breathing space not just for me, but for them too.

So this half-term, or anytime you’re in a pinch point:

• Stop deprioritising yourself. Eat. Sit down. Take five minutes. You don’t have to come last.

• Drop the “make it magical” pressure. You don’t need a packed schedule of incredibly expensive experiences. Quiet calm is underrated.

• Call it what it is. This is a pinch point. This too shall pass.

Have you ever broken down in the middle of an everyday mum task? Please tell me, I’m not alone…

If this hit a nerve, you’re not alone.

I write about mum guilt, the mental load, and what it really looks like to stop putting yourself last.

Subscribe below if you want more of this in your inbox.

I don’t feel at ease with the phrase “self-love”. That soft pink fluffy stuff just isn’t me.

Maybe if I’d had a more “normal” childhood, this kind of healthy self-worth would come naturally. But it really doesn’t. Therapists have tried, honestly, they have, but I can’t really do it. It’s so alien to me.

So instead of forcing it and feeling really fake and cringe, I try to reach for the next best authentic thing.

Gratitude.
Respect.
Sometimes even pride, on a good day.

I can be grateful to my body for growing my babies.
I can respect myself for keeping everyone afloat.
I can occasionally feel proud of how I’m handling it all. This week, I was so proud to give a workshop on mum guilt to Joeli Brearley and the Growth Spurt community - welcome any new mamas who met me there!

Below, I’m sharing a few quick, little ways to show yourself some 💜 this V-Day.

1, Spend some time on your own.

Do you remember that scene in the SATC movie where Charlotte hides from her kids in the pantry? I didn’t have kids when I watched it. I didn’t get it. Now, of course, I do.

That’s level one.

Level two is leaving the house on your own.

A walk on your own. A coffee on your own (I treated myself to one this morning). Any kind of treat on your own.

Because most of the time, our brains are scanning:
Who needs me?
What’s next?
What have I forgotten?

For 15 minutes, switch that off.

Ahhh.

2, Look at yourself in the mirror.

Resist the urge to look at the wrinkles, spots or imperfections. Don’t get all judgy. Just give yourself eye contact. Yes, it will feel a little odd, but stay with it.

Now see yourself as someone you’re proud of.

Someone who’s doing her best in a challenging situation.

Someone who deals with the shit that comes her way and finds her way through.

Someone whose kids can rely on her unquestionably.

Someone doing a fucking amazing job.

Hold that gaze a moment more.

3, Shut down that inner critic

My yoga teacher today told me about an experiment in which one group of people said loving words to some flowers and another group said awful words.

Guess which flowers blossomed? Guess which ones died?

We never set out to give ourselves a hard time, but our inner critic can get too loud, too dominant, too convincing. So next time it pipes up, just breathe, notice it and remember it’s just fake news.

Bonus: if you actually buy yourself a nice present, that’s Level 10.

All my love, mamas.

Mwah x

Because this isn’t just a problem for the mums on the call that day. It affects all of us. Even if the role is exactly the same, even if the team is exactly the same, even if the senior management are exactly the same, even if the KPIs are exactly the same, you, Mama, are not.

You have been through a seismic shift: emotionally, mentally, physically (and, of course, financially). You have evolved, morphed, problem-solved your way to where you’re standing today, triumphant and resilient. So no, the view is not the same.

But the expectation is that you will slot back in like nothing’s changed. Like a typewriter that just needs to be slid back over to the left to repeat the whole thing again and again, week after week.

That unrealistic expectation will fuel mum guilt, because no matter what you do, you cannot be that pre-kids version of yourself. She doesn’t exist anymore.

When people ask me about my life with triplets, I quote the opening line of a book we studied at high school, The Go-Between by L.P. Hartley, “The past is a foreign country, they did things differently there.”

I cannot go back. I cannot bouce back. I cannot get my pink back. Back is gone.

Was that hard to accept? Did I have to grieve it? Do I miss it sometimes?

Yes, but nonetheless, I must accept it.

Acceptance not expectations, is the first step of breaking up with mum guilt for a reason.

But what happens then when you're expected to act like nothing ever happened?

In a word: masking.

Now, mums are pretty good at this, but that doesn’t make it OK.

Bupa found that nearly a third of mums put on a facade of coping due to fear of being judged.

But get this. In a totally separate study, I found that roughly a third of mums don’t feel understood by others in the workplace.

How could you be understood if you can’t be your true authentic self?

That’s a lot of mums quietly holding it together behind a confident smile. Until something has to give.

As I said in Stylist last year,

Let’s not forget that 26% of parents leave work within a year of returning from parental leave.

The real cost of masking

When you mask, you suffer in silence. You cannot ask for support (or, possibly, even accept what’s offered, in case, it’s seen as a weakness). It’s like that old adage from the TV Dramas, “Anything you do say can be used against you.” So you keep quiet, keep your head down, mask.

At the same time, you’re trying to “prove” you’re as committed as Brad, who has no children and can be in the office at 8am every day after his spin class, can do the overseas trips (and therefore bag the best clients and bonus) and has time to keep on top of every industry trend. Nice one Brad, mine’s an oat cortardo on your way in.

We need to get real about the expectations fuelling this mum guilt.

The first step, is just to acknowledge what they are. No judgement.

Some of them will be external. Your boss may have expectations around your hours, availability, commitment, and attendance of out-of-hours events.

Your family may have expectations on your mothering, how much you should be working/earning.

Social media will have expectations on every damn thing.

And then there’s you. What are you setting as the bar of success for yourself?

God knows, I put myself under more pressure than anyone to show how committed I was from pregnancy onwards. No one else was pushing me, asking me to prove myself. It was all coming from me. I was literally trying to launch a product from a MacBook on a labour ward (more on that tragi-comedy another time).

If you don’t know where to start, finish this sentence, “A good mum should…” as many times as you can.

(All of us, during another chaotic morning, racing to get everyone ready)

I need your voices

Next week, I’m going to deliver a talk on mum guilt and the return to work for Saint Joeli Brearly (she is a saint to me, as without her, I never would have got free childcare for my triplets when they turned two. I said a prayer of thanks to her every time I dropped them off at preschool.)

It’s a big gig for me and the FMG movement.

The stats are alarming, the theory is sound, but what I really need is you. I need real mums sharing their experiences of their return to work - what made you feel supported, what didn’t, what do you think we need to change.

I am fighting this fight for all of us, and I want to represent real mums and share their real voices. So if you’d be happy to share how you found your return to work and what you think organisations can do to make this transition better, please comment or DM me if you want to stay anonymous.

Thanks to every one of you. I know it feels like an uphill struggle, but the change we push for now could make things better and easier for mums in the future.

Much love,

Leila

To be honest with you, I really needed some good news.

My mantra this year is: “Get out of self-doubt”. But somehow it had me in its grips towards the end of last week. I was stretched too thin, my three-year-old triplets had been incredibly challenging (no one told me 3-year-old boys get the same testosterone boost they do in puberty!), and I had been feeling the Imposter Syndrome badly.

Can I really do this?

Is it too much?

An opportunity to speak at a festival came along but it’s the same week as my boys start primary school. No can do.

This plus coming off some women’s supplements that totally messed up my hormones (maybe my three-year-olds weren’t the only ones going through a pseudo-puberty!) left me feeling pretty down.

Then this happened on Monday

I was on the Dig It podcast - where Zoe Ball and Jo Whiley talk about the messy, unglamourous side of being a mid-life woman. Uncensored and raw.

I came across it last year when they did an episode on mum guilt and Imposter Syndrome. I was hooked.

I sent in a voicenote on mum guilt and, of course, a couple of our legendary F*** Mum Guilt T-shirts and then nothing…

Then Christmas…

Then still nothing…

And then on Monday, they did a whole section on it. Go straight to it here

or watch the whole show by clicking below:

Jo described the T-shirts as “genius”, and Zoe said she’d worn hers “with pride”.

It felt like one of those moments where the Universe taps you on the shoulder and says: keep going, you’re on the right path.

Not to mention Jo’s very sound advice on dealing with Imposter Syndrome when you come back after having a baby. It was just what I needed.

If you would also like to wear your F*** Mum Guilt T-shirt “with pride” a la Zoe, your wardrobe upgrade is waiting for you here.

Over to you, the FMG community, who should we send our T-shirts to next? Think big.

I’d love to get one on Lily Allen or Paloma Faith. They speak about motherhood in such a raw, unapologetic way and aren’t afraid to raise a few eyebrows. What do you reckon? Let me know, and I’ll try to pull it off.

But what about you?

Have you managed to claim any time back for yourself in 2026 yet? If not, go back and watch the three-minute meditation I shared last week. Remember something you used to love that you haven’t had time for in a while and bring it back, or another year will zip by.

I actually got my paints out last week, although I was feeling pretty wiped out and low. I wanted to throw most of what I painted in the bin, but that’s not the point. I sat there for an hour, lost in colour. Not rerunning the negative stories in my head.

On an episode of Jo & Zoe’s podcast, they had Dr Rangan Chatterjee on, and he said: “Joy builds resilience to stress.”

So where can you find a little pocket of joy just for you this week?

Even 5–10 minutes is worth it. It can be tempting to just crack on with the chores if you don’t have long, but consciously choosing to spend that time doing something that brings you joy matters.

Listening to a feel-good song. Closing the curtains and dancing (I may have done that last night). Actually sitting down to have a cup of tea or coffee while it’s still hot. Sending a voicenote to a friend.

This stuff doesn’t actually take that long, but it makes you feel a lot better.

If you only had 10 minutes to do something for yourself, what would you choose?

Shoulders dropped. Breaths slowed. Ideas germinated. Because we stopped long enough to remember ourselves.

Most of us are so used to pushing through, running pretty darn well on empty, that even pausing can feel uncomfortable. Like we haven’t earned it yet.

I shared the simple framework I use to ensure I claim some of the time and space in my life for myself. It works for me as an overstimulated triplet mum, and it will work for you too.

Because here’s the thing. If you don’t proactively prioritise and plan time for yourself, there’s a landgrab from all angles, Mama. And somehow, you’re always the one left with nothing.

I didn’t want you to miss out, so here’s the framework, along with a powerful 3-minute meditation that will reconnect you with all the things that used to fill your cup, bring your joy and make you smile.

Trust me, these 3 minutes will start you on a path to a happier 2026.

Give yourself permission

To stop for three whole minutes. Sit down, close your eyes, listen, and then grab a pen and paper. Write down whatever comes up. Honestly, you might be surprised by what pops up straight from your soul.

I specifically wanted you to think about:

• an activity you used to do in your alone time, because this is often the easiest place to start

• something you used to do to show your body some love, because it absolutely deserves it

• people, because if I’m honest, motherhood has been the loneliest part of my life

We then chose just one thing that we wanted to bring back.

Making it happen

Then, before all the mum guilt-inner-critic coalition could pipe up to thwart us, we got real. We committed to a concrete step we could take. Some of us started researching trips we could take child-free. I found a local writing group I’m committing to go to monthly. We got things moving.

Comment below and let us know what came up for you.

The whole FMG community is rooting for you. I’ve definitely got my pom-poms out and am bringing full Gwen Stefani Hollaback vibes.

If you’d like the full Radical Mama Reset recording - there is another 57 minutes of gold - just DM me.

Can’t wait to hear what this kicks off for you.

After the pressure of Christmas, more pressure is not what we need. And yet so many mums feel pushed towards big resolutions, total overhauls, and impossible expectations.

This audio is an invitation to a different kind of reset.

One built on small, meaningful ways of filling your cup. Shifts that fit real life. Support that feels human, not performative.

Join me Monday 8pm - come in your PJs if you like - and you’ll leave with a tailored action plan of how we’re going to fill your cup this year.

Sign up free here:

ps. I’m sorry this is going out so late - it took this long to get my triplets asleep and have the house quiet enough to record audio. Does Steven Bartlett have this problem?

When my triplets were about 6 months old, I finally managed to catch up with my girlfriends IRL. We went for a belated birthday afternoon tea, and the Louis XV chair was so comfy I could have slept.

My child-free friends asked me what my life was really like.

I took a sip of my Earl Grey, and wondered how to convey the enormity of it. Then I said, “It’s like there’s no space for me in my own life.”

Wow.

I don’t think I’d realised it until I said it out loud.

If you can relate, join me to make this year the one you claim that space back.

Radical Mama Reset

Monday 12th January

8pm

Free Zoom

Register here.

You already know this: if you don’t prioritise your health and wellbeing, no one else will.

But in reality? Motherhood leaves you with barely any time or energy for yourself. It’s a catch-22.

So what if we took a moment, paused and designed this year with you and your needs at the centre?

Not making do with the scraps of time and energy left over once everyone else is sorted - but fuelling yourself properly, so you’re not running on fumes. Not just for you - for everyone who depends on you.

Sounds radical, right?

It is.

If you’re ready to say goodbye to feeling depleted and hello to feeling resourced, capable, and strong enough to handle whatever parenting fireball gets thrown at you next...

Join me - and your new mama besties - to:

• Learn a simple 4-step life design framework for busy, working mums

• Get clarity on how to fill your cup

• Say yes to yourself

Let this be the year you say:
“Fuck Mum Guilt. I’m taking care of me.”

Claim your spot here

See you there, and bring your mum friends. The more of us that challenge society’s notion of the self-sacrificing martyr mum, the healthier the future is for everyone.

OK, bear with me. This might sound a little woo, but this is honestly the single most powerful coaching tool I have to share.

To quote Mark Ronson, “Don’t believe me? Just watch”

It’s a few days before my 37th birthday, my alcoholic brother has just been kicked out by his fiancée - for good this time (Lord knows that girl put up with enough). He’s turned up at my door because we have an important creative meeting with an author in an hour but is clearly in NO FIT STATE.

I sit him down in the garden and tell him he needs to pull himself together.

He weeps.

I hand him some Rescue Remedy (I know, it’s not going to touch the sides).

And then I say something that changes everything.

I tell him this: That he will become the man he wants to be. Or he won’t. But it’s on him.

At the same time, my best friend was in the middle of an agonising IVF journey. Her chances were around 40%. Tops. There was nothing she could do to improve those odds.

My brother, on the other hand, had something radically different.

He had agency.

“Write a Christmas card to yourself now”

Wet, squinting eyes blinked at me in confusion.

“Start it like this,” I said. ‘It is now Christmas Day and I have been sober for four months.’

Four months sounded outrageous. Impossible. It was beyond the stretch of even the most generous optimist (like me). I encouraged him to keep writing, about losing weight, getting healthy again, getting those credit cards paid down, all the draining weights he was carrying.

He wrote…

For the rest of that year, every time I went to his flat, I noticed that Christmas card sitting on the shelf in the hallway. Quiet. Unshowy. But constant.

A reminder of where he was headed.

On Christmas Day, he opened it.

Not long after he got sober, he became a coach who helps other men do the same.

Here’s the thing.

Everyone has the power to write themselves a letter like that.
It’s free.
It’s simple.
And it’s game-changing.

Do it.

(Pic: My brother playing with Frankie at the beach on Christmas Eve. This might not look remarkable, if you didn’t know how bad the before pictures were.)

My New Year’s Ritual

Although this is great at any time. I make a point of doing it every New Year’s. Tonight, I will open the letter I wrote a year ago, and hopefully smile and see how much I made happen this year. Then I’ll write the next one. Here’s how:

1, I get a piece of paper and write down all the things I’m DONE with and don’t want to carry into the next year e.g. “Self-doubt, people-pleasing, mum guilt” - you get the idea.

2, I rip these little bits of paper up and burn them, in a bowl or chuck them in the fire. No flames? You could put them in the bin if you do it with enough drama for your soul to know you mean it.

3, I get a fresh piece of paper and write “It is now New Year’s Eve 2026, and this year has been ____________. I have done so many things I’m proud of, including ____________.”

That’s it.
That’s the doorway.

That ought to get you started. Just let it flow.

Stop, Wait a Minute

Still need convincing?

This works because:

1. It’s manifestation, yes you are putting what you want out to the Universe.

2. It uses the same neuro-hack as visualisation - this is just the writers’ edition. Our brains don’t cleanly separate future and present.

3. It creates clarity. And clarity is power.

You can’t move toward what you haven’t named.

Radical Reset for Mamas

Which brings me to this.

I’ve set the date for our next get-together.
It’s free.
It’s post-bedtime (for UK mamas, at least).

12 January, 8pm.

The most radical thing you can do this year isn’t setting a huge goal.
It’s designing a year that actually works for you – with you at the centre.

Most mums don’t need another ambition.
They need a pause.
A moment to breathe and ask: how do I want to feel this year?

Because so many of us build our lives backwards – giving our best energy to everyone else, then surviving on scraps. By December, we’re running on fumes. (Or is it just me?)

It doesn’t have to be that way.

Come along, meet other mums who get it, and leave with:

• A simple life-design framework to help 2026 work with you

• Clarity on what actually fills your cup, big and small.

• Permission to prioritise yourself without guilt

No hustle.
No fixing.
No pretending you’ll “get to yourself later”.

Just clarity, connection, and a year that starts with you feeling resourced.

Hit the button below to register for free.

Sign up here

See you soon Mamas,

Leila x

I loved watching The Holiday (I know it word for word). Singing carols with my choir. The lights in London. The window displays in Fortnum’s. Pre-Christmas mulled wine in Borough Market with my girlfriends whilst we exchanged gifts.

Ahh I can almost taste it.

And then I became a mum – and I lost access to that Christmas. I felt robbed.

It was about expectations, people-pleasing when everyone wanted to see the babies for their first Christmas and it took hours of work to get them ready and in the van! he cute outfits and photoshoots the other mums pulled off.

We used to laugh at the Christmas card we got every year from our Canadian cousins – stiffly posed girls in matching red dresses with pigtails. We thought it must be a cultural thing.

Little did I know I’d feel the pressure to do this myself some twenty years later.

Our attempt at a Christmas jumper photo. Jerry was not impressed.

When we shifted from abundance to lack

What should be a celebration of abundance – the birth of a miracle baby, a story of love, magic and generosity (whatever your spiritual read) – has quietly become a story of lack.

Lack of time.
Lack of energy.
Lack of space to breathe.

During my student days, I worked the holidays in the fanciest of department stores in London: Selfridges and Liberty (which I still adore). One is on Oxford Street, and the other is just off it - the busiest retail street in the country.

I saw it first-hand: thousands of mums panic-buying presents, hunting down the hottest Lego set like trackers in the Sahara, that slightly wild look in their eyes from the desperation of the hunt.

I’d do whatever I could to make their lives easier; let them down gently when “must-haves” were out of stock.

And now, there but the grace of God go I.

Because there’s something about the Christmas to-do list: no matter what you cross off, more appears. An extra guest. Another invitation. Parcels arriving from people you forgot to buy for. And as the big day approaches, what I really crave is less, not more. Quiet not noise.

The baubles of Christmas Breakdown

Last year, during the F*** Mum Guilt Christmas special, I shared something I called The Baubles of Christmas Breakdown. Think of it as a Venn diagram of Mama’s Gonna Blow.

The danger zones:

• Not asking for help

• Social media comparison

• People-pleasing

• Over-spending

• Over-committing

These are the pressure points where Christmas starts to unravel.

What’s the one thing in common? Boundaries, or lack thereof.

If you catch yourself doing any of these, you’re out of alignment.
You’re saying yes when your body and heart are saying no.
You’re doing things that don’t actually feel right.

Which one hits home for you? Let me know below.

Last year, the most common bauble by far was over-committing.

Just this evening, my husband and I scrapped a trip to London next week for his work’s family Christmas party and the lights. It would be lovely – but we’re hosting the whole family a few days later, and it’s too much.

That’s what choosing abundance looks like now.

So consider this a PSA: keep these baubles in mind this December. Guard your boundaries like a mum trying to stop a toddler bolting out of a bookshop (true story from today – huge respect to the heavily pregnant mum who used her size to block the door while I paid).

And finally – an update.

I really miss our get-togethers, so I’m bringing them back.

In early January, I’ll be hosting a free webinar:

The Radical Reset: No More Putting Mama in the Corner

Because the most radical thing you can do next year isn’t setting a huge goal – it’s designing a year with you at the centre.

Not surviving on scraps of time and energy once everyone else has been taken care of (which is exactly how my year has felt).

So let’s come together to pause and ask: how do I actually want to feel this year?

Then design a realistic plan for making that happen.

Let me know if you’d prefer a lunchtime or post-bed-time session. Your Christmas wish is my command.

It’s crazy out there. Use my mum’s motto: Be kind to yourself.

Leila,

PS. Forward this to a mum you know with a lot on her plate right now.

E - Eliminate the unnecessary

L- Let others help you

F- Forget what everyone else is doing.

Let me know how you get on.

Christmas Day 2020. I’m hanging on by a thread after another tough year. It should have been our first Christmas as a family. My baby girl should have been here wearing a cute reindeer jumper.

Should have. Should have. Should have.

Grief gets you in different ways and at different times.

The guests had arrived. It was time for me to start the epic job of cooking the Christmas dinner, and I couldn’t do it. I hid upstairs. Shut the office door and sobbed on the floor.

If I’m honest, the whole festive period had been too much. I had said yes to things I didn’t feel up to out of obligation. Out of not wanting to be the party-pooper. I smiled my way through it all. The masking took its toll. And I carried this quiet belief that I needed to be a Christmas cheer factory for everyone else who had also had a tough year.

“Come to mine for a party, guys.”

My husband found me, offered to take over, and made the mother of all colour-coded spreadsheets to tackle cooking the dinner (he’d never even cooked a dinner party at this point). Possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

Grief aside, this isn’t a rare story.

63% of mums find Christmas stressful.
77% say their mental health worsens in December.

This month is a perfect storm.

The physical work – decorating, battling the hauds in the shops, hauling a six-foot Nordic pine tree back home etc.
The mental work – diaries, gifts, food plans, who’s where and when, budgeting for all the expensive outings.
The emotional work – compromising, people-pleasing, swallowing comments about how you parent with a festive smile, processing feelings about those who aren’t around our Christmas table any more, maybe even a sprinkle of loneliness too.

Plus, social media gives our mum guilt a festive glow up when our home, bodies, and gifts don’t look as good as everybody else’s. If you’re reading this and your home doesn’t look like a Boujis hotel lobby, you don’t fancy squeezing into a sexy santa costume and you’re buying your gifts from Vinted, you are not alone.

Empower Your ELF

When I was a female entrepreneur, I had to stay focussed, hire and delegate and stick to what worked for me rather than switching strategies every two minutes because someone successful was doing something different. I’ve drawn on all of that to give you the F*** Mum Guilt Christmas Survival Guide: ELF

E - Eliminate the unnecessary. More is not more. You can’t do it all. Instead of going OTT (easily done), think about what you can scrub off your to-do list e.g. Iditched Christmas cards last year and will do the same this year. Sure, it would be cute if I could arrange a festive photo shoot and send cards out to the family but honestly, I don’t have the bandwidth. Also, everyone is too full to have dessert, so I’ll not be offering one on Christmas Day. There’s always a herd of Lindt reindeer if anyone fancies something sweet.

L- Let others help. Christmas is no time for mum martyrdom. Delegate without the guilt. Nearly half of mums struggle to even ask their partner for support. I implore you to write a list of what needs doing and then delegate - could some of your guests bring a dish? Could your partner or mum pick up your click and collect? Mum burnout is death by a thousand papercuts. Take some of the little things off your list to give yourself some breathing space.

F - Forget what everyone else is doing. This is a hard one because advertisers, retailers and your social media feed will tell you what wonderful things everyone else is doing and buying and will leave you feeling the pressure to do the same. Forget them. You do not need to go into debt to have a good Christmas. Now is the time for compassion not comparison. Your kids don’t need $$$$ spent on them, they need a calm, grounded, healthy mama to have fun with over the festive period.

Over to you…

• What part of Christmas do you secretly find the hardest?

• Which part of ELF feels most needed this year – E, L, or F?

• And honestly… are you already running on fumes?

Hit the button and let me know.

Leave a comment

I felt so emotional and proud.

Hearing some of the current students take the stage and speak about how they understood they had a purpose and their voice was power, it felt very obvious how I got from a 12 year-old sitting in that assembly hall to a mum who started this movement.

If you’re new here, welcome. If you’re an OG – let’s go deeper…

Life Before

In 2021, I was rocking being a top 100 female entrepreneur. I’d run my publishing business for over 10 years. I spent my days working with authors. Then major life curveball. I naturally conceived triplets.

Life would never be the same again.

Motherhood is isolating, but being a triplet mum is alienating.

Never enough mummy to go around

My premature triplets were just 4 weeks old, still tiny fragile beings that looked more like worms than babies when mum guilt first hit.

Two were discharged home from hospital and one wasn’t. Who needed me most? The sickest baby who had teams of people looking after him 24/7 or the two at home who were healthier but still very needy. There was no right answer. Only mum guilt.

Three months into motherhood, I reached breaking point.

24 feeds every 24 hours and mum guilt came for me hard. I was sleep-deprived, exhausted and easy prey.

I almost believed it when it whispered, “It’s not their fault you can’t do this. They deserve better.”

That was when I realised it was him or me, and I couldn’t let this toxic bully in my head win. My babies needed me strong, so I pushed back and kept pushing.

The reel that started a movement

Picture the scene:
I’ve just come back from the gym (a simple act of self-care I get trolled for) and fed the babies some kind of vegetable gloop. Gym clothes now splattered with green gloop, babies still in their high chairs. And a reel pops up:

Red. Rag. To. A. Bull.

Having done all the hard work on breaking up with guilt I couldn’t sit back and see it paraded as a metric of love. WTF. This is the trap.

Ditching mum guilt does not mean we don’t love or care for our children thank you very much, but that we take care of ourselves too. I was outraged, did a ranty to-camera call to arms. And you answered.

70 mums signed up for my mum guilt amnesty.

We got national media coverage.

It blew up.

That was the moment I realised this wasn’t just my fight. It was ours.

What happened next

I got loud. I grabbed the mic. I called mum guilt out. I spoke up about maternal mental health. I wrote a book about the raw, real parts of motherhood with Stacey Dooley. I stepped on to the TEDx stage and now I’ve started a Substack too. Honestly, I’ve only just got started. Employers and the NHS, I’m coming for you next!

What I’m for:

• Breaking the silence and lifting the taboo on the parts of motherhood that never get airtime, especially maternal mental health

• Mums filling their cups without guilt and modelling what a healthy adult that takes care of their wellbeing looks like

• Exposing mum guilt as the toxic partner he is and giving mums the tools to finally break free

What I’m against

• Mum judgement in all its forms – the birthplace of mum guilt

• Cultural conditioning that keeps mums feeling like it’s them that’s not good enough, not the system!

• Unrealistic expectations that push mums into burnout and misery

Actually, this could be a whole post, so I’ll stop now.

This beautiful community

Right now, most people just accept mum guilt as part of motherhood but it doesn’t have to be that way. It can be shown the door. Experiencing mum guilt is inevitable in today’s society but staying in it is a choice.

You’ve joined this movement because you’re choosing to stand up to it.

You know it doesn’t serve you. You know how shitty it can make you feel and frankly, you’re done with this energy drain.

But here’s the catch, like that toxic partner that always wheedles his way back into your life, mum guilt is hard to shake. Hard, but not impossible especially if you’ve got proven mindset tools and a community of besties and allies who’ve got your back.

So thank you, Mama, for being here. Part of this movement. Change starts now.

Maybe it makes more sense why an ambitious school girl who wants to leave her stamp on the world painted my portrait now.

Much love,

Leila x